


Snowborne

by Cân Cennau (gwenynnefydd)



Category: Great Northern War/Carolean Army RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Character Study, Domestic, Drunken Shenanigans, Epistolary, Fluff and Angst, Great Northern War, Historical References, Humour, Letters, Multi, Slightly Inaccurate Historical Speech, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenynnefydd/pseuds/C%C3%A2n%20Cennau
Summary: A collection of letters to Karl XII of Sweden, from those closest to him.





	Snowborne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aquatics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatics/gifts).



> Happy yuletide spirouline! I hope this takes your fancy!

_ August 16th, 1699 _

_ Karl, _

It’s been three days since your little episode. I’ve seen the light on in your window, so I suppose you haven’t died. More likely is that you’re sleeping off the worst sore head you’ve had in a while. But the servants won’t let me in to see you, and I’ve had to stoop to hiding from your housekeepers in order to slide this letter under your door. I haven’t hidden from your housekeepers since we were seven, and you pushed me into Uncle’s collection of prize silverware. It’s unbecoming.

In retrospect, we perhaps should not have drunk something advertised as “the closest thing to the cold burn of the Sami territory snowfall”. But we did, and it was stronger than we both imagined it to be, and I must make it clear that I did, in fact, tell you not to drink so much. It wasn’t my fault you took “we cannot drink more than a glass of this” as a challenge. It also wasn’t my fault that you thought it was appropriate to shout-sing both on top of a table and when you fell off of it onto the floor. 

I admit it was my fault that you tried to chat up that horse. You were very gung-ho about the entire thing, right up until you realised it was a horse. But it was a  _ joke,  _ something neither you nor that horse’s owner appreciated. It certainly didn’t afford the dramatic pity party through the snow, where you claimed you were going to swear of “all vices in the world”. You are like a little brother to me, but even I was tempted to leave you to fend for yourself in the snow.

I wish the alehouse keeper warned us of it strength. It did, however, burn something unholy, so we cannot blame the alehouse keeper for misrepresenting his drink.

Write back soon, so I know the drink didn’t actually turn your humours black.

_ Frederick _

* * *

 

_ October 22nd, 1700 _

_ Brother, _

You’ll be happy to know that the world has not turned upside down with you vanishing into this wretched war. I am well, Juliana sends her regards. Frederick has not yet stopped sending letters inviting me back to Denmark. Ulrika is being her usual self - quiet, shy, still unable to ride horses. You’ll have to tell the Russians they’ll have to stop invading Estonia for a while so you can come back and teach her,  because heavens know she won’t ask me. You’d have thought  _ Farmor  _ would be easier on her with you King and I married, but it’s not to be - Ulrika cares for her, despite  _ Farmor’s  _ attitude.

Snow has fallen here - proper snow now, not just the ice that was here when you left. Ulrika and I built a snow fort outside, and I later saw Ulrika and Menza out skating on the lake. Do you remember last time you played with us in the snow? It was when Frederick came the first time. You were so desperate to show him how impressive you were - I distinctly remember you leading a war charge over a snowbank, only to go sliding down the back of it. We didn’t try a snow battle this time, but Ulrika and I built a snowman together, before she snuck off to spend time with Menza. I swear, if Menza was a man, Ulrika would marry her without a second thought...

Many have asked me to speak to you on about ending the war. I can almost imagine the speech you’d give me for suggesting the idea, all full of justifications and pomposity, stubborn to a fault. I know you, brother - you’re brash and naive, but you will do whatever is best for the Empire. That’s why you left me to do any courtly entertaining, and you dashed off to parade your army through Denmark and Russia. Not that I don’t enjoy it - even Ulrika can’t deny she loves to perform in the grand hall - but I’m fully aware that it should be you here, heading off dignitaries and negotiating diplomacy. It’s not quite as fun without you here.

One last thing, brother - don’t die. Build me a snowman once you get to Narva.

With love,

_ Hedvig _

* * *

_ July 6th, 1708 _

_ Sir, _

There is no hope in Hell that you’d read this. But I feel like I need to write it, to address what I think about you, and this whole situation.

We’ve faced almost insurmountable loss, and yet you keep going. You keep pushing, insisting we can take on an army almost triple our size. I think the men find your zealotry rather inspiring. But this rush of bad luck put a dent in even the most patriotic of soldiers, even more so now that half of use are holed up in this prison. I suspect even you, in your Ottoman exile, are doubting your choices. Then again, you’d never show that to your compatriots. Oh no, you’d be scheming your return as I write, I’ve no doubt about  _ that _ .

I feel young here, moreso than when I first started in your army. I remember my first battle, at Pułtusk - I was so young, and so very scared. But you held me in your tent, you soothed my fear, and you tucked me into bed after I’d exhausted myself. The next morning you were your ordinary, cocky self, but I remembered. I learnt so much from you in those years - you were the brother I never had, and I was devoted. All those times we sat around a fire, you regaling tales and declaring your certainty of winning, I could never once doubt you.

You asked me, after our escapade on the snowy banks of the Berezina, why I continued to put myself in harm's way for you. I remember you, almost as wide-eyed as me, frantic, the one time I’d seen that facade of yours break. When I kissed you, you nearly crushed me to your chest to assure me that it was not unwanted. When you took me to your tent… well, some things aren’t decent to put on paper, but I can assure you I never felt that I was unwanted. 

And now we’re apart. And now, we’ve lost almost all that we’ve had.

Even though I was your protege, your younger brother, your “little prince”, I had tried to protect you throughout your campaign. I suppose, for your next move, I shall have be content with any turn of luck that comes your way. 

In hope we meet again,

_ Maximilian _


End file.
